From a pastor friend:
A client brought a litter of golden-retriever puppies to my veterinary clinic for inoculations and worming. As the look-alike pups squirmed over and under one another in their box, I realized it would be difficult to tell the treated ones from the rest. I turned on the water faucet, wet my fingers, and moistened each dog’s head when I had finished.
After the fourth puppy, I noticed my hitherto talkative client had grown silent. As I sprinkled the last pup’s head, the woman leaned forward and whispered, “I didn’t know they had to be baptized.”
My great grandfather was the Baptist minister in Boones Creek and had several children. One Sunday Morning after the baptismal ceremony at church, the kids gathered up the animals about the place, to have a baptism down at the creek! When the old tomcat scratched and ripped his way to freedom from the arms of the baptiser (Uncle Henry, I think his name was), he grabbed up a handful of water and flung it at the cat scrambling to escape the creek bank, with "Aw, let him be a Methodist and go to hell."
lol. I asked the local vet in a small town nearby if I could get the kitten “spaded” like the rest of the locals have him do. He cracked up